Makar's Confession: I
by windwraith
Summary: My view of events in AC 193 leading up to the original operation meteor. A behind the senes look at the scientists responsible for constructing the Gundams and transforming five boys into dangerous defenders of us all. Part I in the Makar Series
1. the rampant mind

Gundums, the birth of a new technology…what did the scientists behind operation meteor do to achieve their mastery…and what impact did that have on our pilots?

Warning: elements of mind control and manipulation (no slash)

This story is thought to be a reflection of events in or about AC 193 leading up to the original operation meteor. The scientists responsible for the construction of the Gundam's and the training of the pilots are referred to collectively as Makar; and this is their story.

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A Makar's Confession

Everyone agreed that mobile suits were a seminal advancement of military technology. But weapons are only as fine as the raw materials used to construct them. Gundaniam is one of the strongest substances in the universe. It is also unbelievably difficult to work with. It is born of the stars and can only be refined in the vacuum of deep space. Deathscythe, Heavyarms, Sandrock, Shenlong, and Wing are thought to be our masterworks, the greatest weapons ever created. They are not.

As I said weapons are only as fine as the raw materials used to construct them, and there is a substance stronger than Gundanium with far greater potential. Crafting the suits, was only a necessary by product when compared to our greatest achievements. I sense you do not believe me. Perhaps you recall destructive capabilities of the first Gundam, Tallgeese. I know rumors have spread far and wide regarding the megalithic war machine we created but could not tame.

After the powers that be judged the Tallgeese project a fiasco the technicians responsible for its inception were scattered to various colonies but our work for project meteor progressed in isolation. The Leo prototype vividly illustrated our success and our failure. None has been its equal nor could it be till now. Unlike OZ Leo and Ares the five Gundam's are true heirs to the might of noble Tallgeese. But as I have said they are not where our mastery resides.

After twenty years the masters; G, S, H, O & J, not only reinvented the Gundam…they bent their craft to shape the stuff of life as well. All they required was the raw material to see their vision realized. Not in circuits and steal but flesh and bone, look you to the pilots to see the culmination of our sweat and tears. Maxwell, Nanashi, Winner, Wufei and Yuy proved to be perfect specimens, raw material to be shaped to exacting specifications. Little can they suspect the degree to which our mark is written in them body and mind.

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Section One

Entry One  
Colony L3-X18999

I am Naught, a mere tech who could not presume any but the most nominal roll in the work of the greats. But I knew them, and was in a place to oversee the work that was done on the colonies behalf. Thus, I bear some of the responsibility of the Makar and this is my record.

When I first laid eyes on 0-1, the half-starved child was more beast than boy, pacing the confines of his small cell growling incoherently. Every so often he would rush headlong throwing his body against the clear resin barrier that closed the door of his cell. The force of the charge sent him sprawling backwards on the floor. The boy shook his head as if to clear it, rocked back on his heels and stood in one fluid movement…then resumed his pacing.

I was alone in the observation chamber watching the subject's frenetic activity. Sensors in walls floor and ceiling recorded his every move…sensors secreted beneath his flesh monitored minute changes to body temperature, heart rate, respiration as well as more delicate data pertaining to the complex condition of his mind.

Doctor J took no notice of me when he scuttled into the room licking his chapped lips and muttering to himself. I often wondered if his red-lensed goggles showed him the same information as my data screen for he rarely seemed to take notice of the data my terminal meticulously recorded. "Yes, yes…my boy, you will do nicely, very nicely indeed." The master muttered, his three fingered robotic hand barely brushing the tinted barrier separating the observation chamber and the cell.

Somehow the captive sensed the contact he pivoted on his heal to assault the barrier, hammering with both fists, slamming his shoulder against the mirror like surface. Long strings of code shot across my monitor like quicksilver. So much anger…so much rage. Pain, fear, guilt, loneliness, yearning; the boy was a seething caldera of emotion. His body fairly quaked with it. "Focus." a tiny device behind the boy's ear permitted him to hear Dr J's voice through the barrier. "FOCUS!" the man commanded again.

The boy tried. His wild Prussian blue eyes closed and he pressed his forehead against the barrier. "Hnnnnn" he let out a sound more growl than word but something of both. His concentration didn't last long. The drugs coursing through his system caused his thoughts slide helplessly off one another leaving him easy prey to the emotional riot like lightning in his mind. He could not battle what was raging within; so he struck out; renewing his pointless assault on the barrier.

The boy's brief attempt seemed to please the doctor none the less. He sighed, content for a time, watching the youth struggle before twisting the knob that released a fine mist into the cell.

0-1 looked confused at first, his pounding faltered. He staggered back a few steps. I saw his vitals spike as he gasped for breath, clawing at his bear chest. Within minutes he crumpled unconscious on the floor.

And that was my introduction to the Gundam project.

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	2. the young dragon

Section Two: A Young Dragon

_It was good to see the green eyed pilot found the packet of papers I had left for him…for them all. I watched from the shadows as his eyes flicked over that first entry. Then he gazed long and hard at the dark haired pilot of 0-1. I knew he could still see traces of the fellow I described. That alone spoke for the validity of the record he held._

_The willful destruction of the gundams after the 2__nd__ Eves War hit the young men harder than any of them imagined, as I knew it would. Days after finally shutting the door on that aspect of their lives they found themselves drawn inexplicable together again. _

_The five young men knew the others capabilities in combat. They fought with, and on some occasions against, the others in battle. Now they accepted one another as allies…companions in arms…possibly as friends. But I knew they did not truly understand themselves…let alone each other. _

_They wanted independent lives, separate from what they had been made to do, but that was easier said then done. They instinctively came looking for some measure of comfort from the only ones who could truly understand their loss. And when they did, they found my journal waiting. _

_0-3 discovered it first, as I said, and his hand shook as he read it. He clearly realized what he held, and its importance, before he made any move to share it with the others. The taciturn pilot knew some few facts about his companions' lives, they knew very little about his own. But what I had recorded was notably different from all he had learned in both respects and he felt compelled to read further._

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Entry two:

Weeks later I was sent to A0206. There I learned Master O's methodology was significantly different from that of Master J. No sooner had I descended the ramp of my shuttle when the tall man challenged me. "You have come to see my young dragon?" he asked fiercely.

I nodded and tried to face the master with some semblance of authority, though I suppose I came across as dreadfully young and inexperienced. As he led me through the network of corridors he explained his subject, Chang Long, had been a gift from a once powerful warrior clan exiled to the L5 colony. When the clan leaders had gotten word of Master O's work for Operation Meteor they were happy to supply him with anything he needed to further his objective.

What he needed was a child. They complied. From an early age the boy, who had been given the name WuFei, had been an acolyte devoted to the War God Nataku. Master O used his technological genius to make this symbolic gesture reality even if it was only in the boy's mind. My first glimpse of 0-5 told me little about him. He sat cross legged on the floor as if in meditation, but it was not inner peace his mind sought to obtain. He was being lessoned in a much harsher school of thought.

Leather bands restrained his arms at his sides and a sensory hood completely engulfed his head. A complex umbilical of wires and hoses tethered him directly to the banks of computers and machines covering two walls of the chamber. The boy occasionally tugged against his restraints but by in large he sat completely dossal lost in the virtual world his master crafted for him.

"Most priests are devoted to peace and tranquility but not those of Nataku." the bald man explained. "Clan Long went to great lengths to train my Wufei as a harbinger of retribution, before I ever met him. However, despite considerable skill in martial arts, he was personally reluctant to the idea. And that was likely why they gave him to the program. The simulation eases him into a more accepting frame of mind."

I noted the big man looked satisfied with his progress. He continued, "For my young dragon, Nataku is now more than a disembodied warrior spirit…She is his young bride. I have breathed life into an ideal…and body and mind he is joined to her. In the course of the scenario he will watch her die, sacrificing her life for his. When the time comes he will choose the path of justice, seemingly of his own will, to take Shenlong to earth becoming the tool we need him to be."

"B-but it is not real," I had the audacity to remark. "If he were to learn the truth, it could destabilize him." I frowned. I had seen the files of the early tests of the ZERO control system. It had driven many test pilots to 'instability.' Some had committed suicide…others had died in decidedly more spectacular fashions. The control system he designed for the Talgeese was not as responsive as the zero system had been but there was always the threat that such things could happen again.

It seemed the big man may well strike me for even bringing up memories of that unfortunate stage in the projects development but he did not. He rested his hands on his hips and glared but his answer was calm and calculated. "We have taken great care to shield his mind from such intrusions. Everything he experiences is based on facts which can be verified independently. OZ troops did attempt to destroy the colony. Our Tallgeese took to the air and changed their mind. The pilot though victorious could not stand the stress and expired just as all the others have. We had to send out Shenlong to prevent a counter attack. We were bluffing, the Gundam doesn't even have weapons yet, but the gamble worked and Treize Khushrenada himself will confirm the facts are as 0-5 will remember them. He was wounded in the battle after all."

"You clearly place a high importance on mental conditioning, How is he physically?" I inquired changing the subject. "You said your boy is skilled in martial arts…but we both know that is of nominal value piloting a Gundam." I shuttered remembering one Tallgeese test pilot who's heart had ruptured simply because it could not take the strain. That was before the Makar learned the benefits of choosing younger more resilient subjects. But youth alone was not enough. Not by far. A Gundam pilot must be made of sterner stuff…anything less and they would be no different than those who had sacrificed themselves to the Tallgeese years before.

Master O understood what I was implying and confirmed that every precaution had indeed been taken. "I have made 0-5 something more than human, just like the rest of the pilots. He has an extremely high tolerance for pain and heals twice as quickly as one would expect. But you knew that…tell J his serum performed adequately, Though, I am sure his own subject has already convinced him of its value."

In truth 0-1's reaction had been a bit better than 'adequate.' The Doctor's experimentation made him near immortal, though not indestructible. I lost track of how many broken bones I watched him receive during his most intensive training. There was no doubt he would recover from wounds that would kill grown men.


	3. the  diplomat

Section Three

_The other pilots noticed how agitated their companion was, running his fingers through his long bangs. He licked his lips wanting to tell them what he had read thus far but words failed him…as was often the case. He wondered how it could be that 0-5's memories of his wife had been nothing but a program. It was easy for him to make the leap that If that were indeed the case, then any of the things the rest of them considered fact could be equally suspect. _

_I suppose I had not needed to mention the danger of instability caused by the Zero system. They had unfortunately found that out on their own. But 0-3 could not help but wonder about the extent and duration of our meddling in each of their lives. Could knowing the truth cause them harm? How could any of them come to terms with what the makar had done? These were the questions most prevalent in his mind That was what I needed to know as well and from my hiding place my data pad not only recorded the pilots' random thoughts, it carefully charted the mental and emotional fluctuations the new knowledge caused._

_Despite 0-3's reluctance to share what he had learned, the point was made moot almost as soon as he had formed it in his mind. 0-2 was not content to let him stay quietly out of the way, his lean form propped against a column as he read. The braided youth tried reading over his shoulder…out loud…I suppose it was a good thing neither his trainer nor his' urchin upbringing' had made 0-2 a particularly fluent narrator and he faltered over many of the words I used. But simply snatching the journal away was not enough to quell the curiosity he had roused in the others._

_0-3 was not the type of young man to willing read aloud…0-2 clearly lacked the facility. But neither of the young men objected to the earnest entreaties of 0-4. The usually soft spoken blond rested the book from his peers to forestall argument before it had begun and began reading. I found this somewhat ironic in any case since the next section pertained to him. I watched the ebb and flow of his mental readings, with some concern. The screen indicated they were erratic but still within acceptable limits._

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Entry Three

After observing how Master O trained pilot 0-5 I was called to satellite MO-III. There I was not greeted by Master H but by the young heir to Winner Corporation who introduced himself as the future pilot of Sandrock. The situation struck me as strange from the offset. It made no sense that the self proclaimed 'instructor' would choose such a high profile person as candidate to pilot the mighty Gundam, Not to mention that Quatre Raberba Winner struck me as being particularly young and soft.

The boy smiled and shook my hand as if I were an interested share holder that had come to tour his fathers manufacturing plant and not an emissary of the Makar. I wondered if the child was even aware what it meant to be a part of the program.

"Why should you get to pilot Sandrock?" I asked him when we stood before the massive half-completed Mech.

"Well," the slim blond began, tilting his head as if he were sizing me up. "My friends the Maganacs helped built it…a Winner Corp facility houses it…and my father's money paid for it…" He ticked each point off on his fingers still he looked as if he was weighing me to judge which reason would hold more sway in my mind rather than telling me what he considered the most valid reason. He was a diplomat…not a warrior.

There was still no sign of the boy's master. I felt it was my duty to speak plainly to the pampered boy, even if no one else would. "Do you have any idea the strain your body and mind will be put under should you attempt to pilot this Gundam?" I asked him. "The prototype killed many who tried…others it drove insane, why would you risk it…why would your father let you?"

The boy's eyes widened, I suppose he was surprised by my frankness and felt compelled to show me the same courtesy. "As for why my father would permit it, I am one of 30 children to come out of the Winner laboratories and I am the youngest. We are not what you would call a close family. Father doesn't bother much about me, and though I am technically his heir, there is no question I can be replaced easily enough if he sees the need. Besides which, I am heartier than I look," the child told me indignantly then added in a quiet, slightly dreamy voice "I am here because the heart of space chose me."

"The heart of space?" I wondered aloud, there had been rumors that the enigmatic Master H had delusions of unlocking the potential of some of the unused portions of the unconscious…areas hypothetically believed to play a role in extra sensory perception and other mystic nonsense. It was a well known fact that there had never been a single reputable case proving the existence of such things.

I wanted to ascertain just what strange ideas the instructor had been filling his unruly blond head with. But, that was when Master H finally made his appearance known. The man jogged up puffing with exertion. The dark man with the curling mustache grasped my hand as of it were the arm of a pneumatic jack and he pumped it vigorously. Excuses gushed from him and though he spoke much he said little. I was fully apprised of Sandrock's capabilities but of the pilot he said little. Truth is, I had difficulty getting a word in edgewise and was quite glad when that first interview was over.

As I sat in the shuttle waiting to depart I was just finishing my report I noticed the flashing icon on the left hand side of the screen, it indicated a connection to a remote network had been achieved. That was how we kept tabs on 0-1. Clearly he was out of the limited range of my data pad. But the Winner boy…I glanced out the window and sure enough, the young blond looked to be in a heated conversation with his instructor.

I opened the link and erratic readings flitted across the screen, elevated heart rate and blood pressure…Clearly the boy was mistaken in believing he was just one more product of his father's lab. Artificial procreation, though common among older space born families, Young Quatre's DNA lacked the usual variations. He was natural born and the only marks on his genetic code were fingerprints of the Makar.

I hypothesized 0-4's so called connection with the heart of space was likely a covenant mask for information passed to him from the all too real connection I had inadvertently stumbled upon. I could have discerned exactly what had upset the boy with a few common keystrokes but didn't feel comfortable delving deeper into his mind then I already had.

I could not help but wonder if the young noble had willingly submitted to the implantation process. Some mobile suit pilots choose to undergo the augmentation, most notable and effective being the lightning count, Zech Marquise. Others had no say in the matter, as had been the case with 0-1 and 0-5. In fact, I doubted 0-5 was even aware the procedure had been done.

It was true the neural connections would be invaluable in connecting to the Gundam control system but I saw the potential danger there as well. The zero system had proven the interface system could be used to gain access to the pilots mind, manipulating or overriding emotion, curtailing rational thought and altering instinct. Sometimes such things were necessary but the concept made me uncomfortable.


	4. the  replacement

Section four

_The sensitive young man knuckled tears out of his liquid blue eyes. "I-I thought…father said…" the blond choked unable to go on. I was glad I had chosen not to go into any greater detail about the situation of his birth. It was much later I learned that __Lady Winter suffered from a genetic defect that made natural pregnancy next to impossible. _

_They had many lab bred offspring but when the lady was diagnosed with a terminal illness she had nothing left to loose. Master H helped_ _the couple conceive naturally. There was no question that the birth would kill her, but with the aid of the Makar she lived long enough to carry to term. What is more Master H used a dilute version of Doctor J's formula in-vitro to keep the illness from passing from mother to child. Additionally it ensured the boy would be born health and strong. _

_When master H approached the Winner Corp president he expected support for the gundam project, especially considering his past service for the family. The refusal came as somewhat of a shock. Perhaps the makar had come expecting money or supplies, but he left with something more valuable, the young heir himself. Much to his father's grief the boy made his own decision. I suspect there may have been more to it than that. Once planted it is not difficult encourage seeds to germinate and grow. The child was marked for the project from birth. _

_0-3 took the book from the other boys grasp and scanned the page. I saw his features freeze as he recognized the content of the next section. Did he really want the others knowing his secrets…did he want to know them? Wordlessly he thrust the leather bound volumes at 0-1, who was equally stunned to receive it._

_During the interchange thus far my readings indicated 0-1 had been equally curious and trepidatious about the journal's contents. He was more then aware of the shadows blocking out significant portions of his past. Even so Wing's pilot believed that, in light of what he could remember…there was little the scientists could have done that would take him by surprise. He steeled himself he began reading out loud but his voice faltered after the first few lines and read the majority of the entry in silence. A lapse that frustrated 0-5 enough that he took possession of the book thereafter._

_0-5 read with confidence, unfaltering…unaware of the revelation he would receive if only he were to turn back a few pages to his own record. But the intense young man did not look back…he only looked forward and so it was not his story that was revealed. _

Entry four

After my sojourn at satellite MO-III It was good to be back at colonial headquarters, where I had trained as a cadet…even if my duty to see Doctor S brought me once again uncomfortably close to the influence of Dekim Barton. Something I did not do lightly. Something about Master Barton always bothered me and though the Wing gundam was important, Heavyarms was his baby…If for no other reason than his eldest son was training to pilot it, Trowa wasn't as frightening as his father of course…but he could be arrogant and demanding when it suited the elder Barton's purpose. Though he was older than any of the other prospective pilots and that came with its own dangers, Trowa claimed the right to pilot 0-3 and Doctor S was not the strongest willed of the Makars; despite better judgment he conceded to Barton's demands. Thus it was 0-3 easily outranked the other pilots in the command structure.

The Doctor was a strange man who wore a portable atmospheric conditioning shield over his nose. Usually such pieces of equipment are used in mines and other environments where there is potentially harmful dust in the air… on a temperature controlled space station it seemed decidedly out of place. I had heard of rare occasions when those with sever allergies find a measure of relief from such precautions and I wondered if this master suffered in that way.

I didn't really need to report on 0-3's progress and made only a cursory inspection. Young Barton was in the facilities gymnasium, running on the treadmill to improve his stamina. He was also particularly fond of strength training and the muscles of his upper body bulged. I didn't think that sheer bulk would help him withstand the mental imprint of the Gundam control system but I did not have the corporate clout necessary to challenge anything he wished to do. I relished the visit none the less for other reasons.

In truth it was an excuse to see Triton Nanashi, the pilot whom at one time I knew better than the rest. In my line of work I have often had cause to wonder when it is that one goes from being a 'boy' to being a 'subject' to being a 'soldier'. For 0-1 the change had likely occurred before I was even a part of the program. Nanashi had likely spent as much time among us as 0-1 had. But, while Wing's pilot spent a substantial part of his life influenced by the Makar, most of that, both before and after his training with Agent Lowe, in the laboratory. Nanashi had been shuttled around from one military outpost to another for as long as I could remember, only returning to the lab at specified times for "routine checkups."

When I was a cadet the taciturn boy was a kind of mascot for our troop…No-name, as most called him. The moniker of 'Triton' had fallen out of use by that time. But I had heard it said that the three-pronged spear had been carefully embroidered on the clothing the boy was wearing when he was first obtained by the mercenary guild. I suspect that if one were to look for that symbol among the Romani they may yet discover the truth of no-name.

In any case Nanashi was about eight when I first encountered him and have yet to find a more entertaining imp. Though he rarely smiled even then, his tricks often lightened the mood for the rest of us. He was pet/younger brother to any number of homesick recruits, myself among them. If any of us got word that someone had harmed our Nanashi, blood would flow. The trouble was, all too often the boy kept his troubles to himself.

He might seem impassive but we recognized his long silences as attentive rather than cold; wide green eyes always watching everything we did. It was no surprise he became a fighter in his own right. He was always in the corps but to my knowledge he never received any official rank. Sometimes he worked as a mechanic other times as a covert operative. Our no-name could blend easily into the shadows. His prodigious skills allowed him to do pretty much anything he set his mind too, except free himself from the destiny the Makar had wrought for him.

"Triton should have been the 0-3 pilot," I growled to my self. Doctor S had done all the preliminary work to get him ready for the Gundam interface…but then Barton had to go and spoil things. I suspect the master finished what he had begin just incase something should happen to one of the other pilots...leaving no name as an understudy of sorts, consigned to the sidelines waiting for something to happen.

That particular day I found him sprawled out on the deck plates head and shoulders inside Heavyarms ventral exhaust port. "Nanashi," I smiled. "Have you memorized every nut and bolt on this monster yet?" I asked.

The lean youth slid gracefully out of the hatch and stood up. He casually ran his fingers through his long bangs and brushed the dust off his dark coveralls before meticulously replacing his tools in their case. "Too elegant to be a monster, this one." He answered softly, as ever his intense eyes drank in everything.

Admittedly I did not see elegance…only raw firepower but I knew how protective a pilot…any pilot could come regarding their machine. And like it or not, the boy had been prepared to join with this particular machine. "Heavyarms is too good for Barton. If he's up to anything more strenuous than a political parade He is going to get himself killed." I sighed, shaking my head. "It is a shame to condemn a Gundam to life as a museum exhibit… It is worth so much more than that that…and so are you. I wish you could it take out, just once, I'm sure you would be more capable of showing us what this machine is truly capable of."

"How do you know I haven't?" Nanashi responded, straight faced as always…only one eyebrow elevated a fraction of an inch…I recognized the subtle sign usually indicative of wry amusement.


	5. the playful orphan

Section Five

_I felt a bit bad breaking off the entry so abruptly but going deeper into the situation with 0-3 seemed premature. If I had my way the boys would find other pages of my journal at various times…if and when they were ready for them. This was meant as an introduction. These were my first impressions and a little more. My point had never been to overwhelm them with the truth._

0-5 glanced at the green eyed pilot. It was difficult to see him as a leader. If one judged by seer force of will then the position of leadership would surely go to 0-1. If one judged on effective strategy and the ability to inspire others to action then 0-4 would hold the roll. 0-3 was valuable for support but not a leader. My entry puzzled him, I suspected it would only be a matter of time before he put the pieces together for himself. 0-4 already had, and regarded his friend with questions in his eyes.

_0-5 chose to file the information away for later and continued on to the next section. Throughout the previous section 0-2 had been pestering to see the book again but he quieted as soon as he realized this next section was about him. Perhaps he recalled the incident; I had chosen to share, perhaps not. The normally garrulous boy suddenly turned remote, toying idly with his braid. 0-5 was taken aback by the sudden change in the other boy and he considered passing the book back to 0-1. Considering the tale might be better received if it came from the impassive dark haired pilot._

_But as he glanced over the text he decided the account didn't seem so dire…then neither had 0-4's but it had still been enough to upset the desert lad. 0-3 still sat beside the small blond who seemed equally upset over the other pilots' account as he had been over his own. 0-5 had always found it difficult to gauge the reactions of others. It looked as if 0-2 wanted him to continue, and so he did._

Entry five 

It was with real regret that I left 'No Name' to continue my appointed task as Makar liaison. The final stop was to Professor G, a gnome of a man with a big nose and scarred cheek. His hairdo would look more at home growing on the side of an old dead tree than on a man. I knew that despite his rumpled demeanor He was a perfectionist…and preferred to think of himself as an artist rather than a designer. Our records indicted he had taken a good long time selecting a suitable pilot for his majestic Deathscythe but I knew nothing about the boy prior to my arrival at the Sweeper group headquarters at the L2 Lagrange point.

The hanger bay looked as if it was one part industrial recycling plant…two part rodent nest…with crates of used ship parts and carcasses of stripped Leo's and Aries organized by some obscure, seemingly random, system that was truly beyond my ken. As the professor led me through the maze of stellar flotsam and detritus I could not help but contrast it with the pristine precincts of the Winner manufacturing complex.

Master G brought me into a nominally more ordered living space inside his private shuttle. "Yahoo!" an exuberant voice called out, seemingly oblivious to our entrance. The boy was lying on a tattered rug leaning on his elbows kicking his feet out behind him. Before him was the oldest computer game system I had ever seen. The monitor was heavy and emitted a constant humming sounding as if it was powered by antique vacuum tubes. The boy didn't seem to care. He toggled the joystick mercilessly and ran the game through its paces.

"This is your pilot?" I asked incredulously

"Just call me the god of death." the boy quipped tossing a long brown braid over his shoulder as the screen proclaimed he had just reached a new high score and requested he enter his initials, he toggled the stick and pressed the red button reputedly spelling out DUO.

"Officially he is Duo Maxwell," Master G explained, "And yes, he will prove a valuable asset to the project."

The boy shut down the game and got to his feet wiping some indefinable grease off his hands he offered to shake mine. I noticed more of the dark substance was smudged on the bridge of his nose and his cheek, but his smile was warm and friendly. Like 0-4 I wondered if he had what it took to tame the Gundam and fight and kill to protect the colonies…then I looked into his deep blue eyes, almost violet, and that penetrating gaze removed all doubt.

"What is your story Duo Maxwell?" I asked this young self proclaimed god of death

"Haven't gotten to the good parts yet," He shrugged, and grinned recklessly. "I'll be sure ta let ya know when I do."

"He may run and hide…but he'll never lie; tisn't that right boy?" The professor said clapping the youth on the shoulder with a familiarity that was a rarity among Makar and their young ones.

I frowned trying to think of when it might be advisable for the pilot of a gundam to run and hide; to me that smacked strongly of cowardice. On the other hand, total honesty, too, was detrimental to such a high profile operative as a gundam pilot. There was always the possibility of capture and interrogation. I was admittedly at a loss; such notions had been burned out of 0-1 long ago. For professor G to have been negligent on so fundamental aspect of the boy's training seemed ludicrous. I reasoned that there must something more to the seemingly simple statement.

-bing- another ancient piece of equipment chimed cheerfully in the crowded den distracting me from my musings. "Popcorn!" the prospective pilot exclaimed eyes shining with undisguised glee. "Want some?" he asked belatedly, shoving a handful into his mouth.

"You go ahead boy, enjoy yourself." Professor G encouraged.

The braided boy did so, occasionally tossing a well formed puff into the air and catching it in his mouth.

I lowered my voice so only the master would hear. "Are you sure about him? Not that I'm accusing you of making a hasty decision but Doctor J was concerned…"

"Hasty?" the man scoffed, "I am an Artist, you will recall. I am NOT hasty…I chose my Duo years ago…when Deathscythe was still in the blueprint stage. I bought him…well adopted actually, and made all the necessary augmentations. Then when I was certain he was in no position to reject his programming I let him go back to his beloved orphanage. He has no memory of our time together of course…and a lot of other things besides, including his true name. I alone hold that as security of his obedience. But he has become everything I'd hoped; demolitions expert, code breaker, thief and whatnot. Before I even contacted him he managed to steal a mobile suit from under the noses of the Oz specials, hack into the control system and pilot it back to protect those who looked after him. You can tell Doctor Cyborg I have everything well in hand. The short man cackled happily at this remark "in hand, get it.." he repeated, shaping his hand into a claw reminiscent of Doctor J's three-fingered prosthetic and raked the air meaningfully.

"Of course sir," I nodded giving a reasonable approximation of Nanashi's impassive face.

The Doctor continued as if I had not spoken, "It is a good thing I sent the boy back to that priest Maxwell. For a god of death, my Duo is actually pretty well adjusted… besides, if I hadn't, the ravenous creature would likely have eaten me out of house and home by now.

Watching the young urchin lay waste to the bowl of popcorn I could understand the man's sentiments. I recall mumbling something about the appetites of growing boys and excusing myself to see about transport back to L3-X18999.


	6. The serious soldier

Section Six

_0-5 flipped to the final section but after scanning it quickly he did indeed hand the book over to 0-1. "You need to know this…the rest of us…It should be up to you to decide if you wish to share these things." His voice was thick with emotion._

_The dark haired lad took a deep breath and began going over the text. It became clear why he had found himself unable to voice the name 'Dekim Barton' when it appeared in 0-3's record. Heero had known the man was familiar ever since the first telecast showing him at Mariemeia's side. But just why the man filled him with such unease had never been clear, till now. His mind adopted on the cold edge of steel that was so familiar to him. He registered the words as he read, but they could not hurt him. What had been done…had been done and that was all. _

Entry Six:

Dekim Barton had Doctor J backed into a corner, from the tenor of the argument it seemed as if the Doctor had taken a page from Master O's book and decided to test his 0-1 in an intensive combat simulation. The mission was simple enough…based on an actual attack on an Alliance base located on one of the colonies. Having been trained by the assassin Lowe our boy should have had no difficulty infiltrating the base, planting the explosives…going to ground and finally detonating the target.

The trouble was Barton purposely programmed several collateral damage loops into the scenario just to gauge how the boy would react. One involved a female and her pet. I did not find out the specifics but I know 0-1 was severely impaired by the experience.

"You had no right to meddle with MY subject!" Doctor J said angrily poking Master Barton in the stomach with one of his mechanical digits.

"The boy is weak…I want him purged of emotion before the date set for operation meteor." The man's bulk, not to mention his impressively plumed hat, towered over the small rumpled doctor. He was good at being physically intimidating. "There is no place for sappy sentimentalism in the heart or mind of a warrior!" Dekim practically shouted.

Doctor J huffed, "You have always favored Extreme tactics Dekim…overkill. What I do takes finesse and careful direction, nurturing…" he tried to explain but his choice of words was unfortunate.

"NURTURING! There will be no nurturing of my human weapon. He is to obey without question and that is all. Trowa will be my representative during operation meteor his orders are to be carried out to the letter. There is no room left for anything else. That was the condition we agreed upon when my foundation agreed to fund the construction of the Wing Gundam. Heavyarms will lead from behind; he will act as backup only if the enemy can get past the others. I can not be there protecting my boy. 0-1 had better be between him and any possible harm; if it means taking a bullet, or more than one, for my son then so be it."

"You don't want a Gundam pilot…you want a robot, a mobile doll with you pulling the strings." Dr. J stormed.

"Perhaps I do…" Dekim said thoughtful for a moment, perhaps he was considering just what it would take for the Barton Foundation to construct weapons that did not require a living pilot…I suspected he found a way to arrange for the Romefeller Corp to foot the actual bill then tried to co-opt the weapons for himself.

The elderly aristocrat shook his head. "That does not diminish the fact that you have made a near catastrophic error in the shaping of your pilot. You are to see it fixed immediately or have him terminated and replaced. I've been told we have a spare." With that pronouncement the man turned on his heels and strode down the corridor.

Still wanting to get the last word Dr. J mumbled to himself, "It is not such a big deal…Heero can only exhibit the emotions I allow…he wasn't prepared to be tested in that fashion that is all. I just need to do a bit more fine tuning."

0-1 had not had a name when I had left on my mission to inspect the progress other pilots. It seemed strange to me that he would now. Lurking around a twist in the hall I was reluctant to let my presence be known, but when the doctor headed to the infirmary I unconsciously fell into step behind him.

The dark haired youth was on a cot with a crisp white sheet pulled up to his chin. I watched from the open doorway keying the remote sequence on my pad. As soon as the display came up I noted how much the boy's readings had changed while I'd been away these past few months.

It was truth, 0-1 now thought of himself as Heero Yuy…I could only imaging how he must have heard the name and latched on to it as his own… if I remembered correctly the previous owner of that name had been the final target assassinated by Odin Lowe. The Makar had not been happy about the man's death but we had wanted 0-1 trained by the best and that, of course, meant Agent Odin was the man for the job.

Heero was as good a name as any I supposed. It would not be good for him to remain nameless and have to deal with the emotional backlash as Nanashi had. I wondered if it had had been coincidence or design that of the five chosen gundam pilots none but 0-4 was in possession of their given birth name…and Winner believed he had been engineered rather than born.

All of these things flitted about in my mind as 0-1 swam in and out of consciousness; his mental record indicated the boy had been able to ascertain he was in a military installation of some kind but the rest was considerably hazy. The memories Doctor J withheld from him could be returned easily enough once he was a bit more stable.

The Doctor's stubby fingers flew across the master control panel on a bank of computers in the far corner of the room. Though my pad recorded everything he did I was not as well versed in such things as the masters and could hardly track what he was doing. I could not even tell if he was meddling in Heero's mind, ripping away the last shreds of his humanity, as Master Barton suggested--or merely trying to do damage control for the trauma induced during the simulation session.

The boy moaned tossing fitfully but presently he was too weak even to dislodge the covers. "Shhh" the master whispered in uncharacteristic gentleness. The man sat on the edge of the bed.

'Doctor J" the boy said in the barest whisper.

"Welcome back Heero," he said slipping his good arm beneath the boy's slim shoulders supporting him…helping him to sit up. "Have something to drink," the doctor offered. His mechanical hand whirred as he grasped the half-full cup and brought the straw to the 0-1's mouth.

Heero's face was creased with pain and he swallowed only with difficulty, but soon the cool blue liquid began to soothe his parched throat. "Thank you," the boy whispered weakly.

I had never before seen doctor J's mouth quirk up in a semblance of a smile but it did that day as he carefully lay 0-1 back against the pillows. "You are a fine specimen, Heero Yuy, very sensitive," he told the young pilot. "Sometimes you are a bit too sensitive we've helped with that some. Trust your emotions but always remember…"

The boy nodded understanding, "Focus," he mumbled sleepily. The sedative the doctor had just given him released tension in his knotted muscles and soon the boy Heero drifted deeper into slumber.

"You've left him his emotions then?" I asked quietly

Trying to do as Dekim proposes would be problematic. Even so--as much as I loathe to admit it--the man has a point. Limits must be set. When he accepts a mission 0-1 will register only the emotions necessary to the mission—or nothing at all, until such time as the mission is accomplished. With success that restraint will ease permitting him to experience the positive aspects of emotion as reward…with failure he will feel the negative. One must have consequences for ones actions after all, even a perfect weapon.

"What about the rest of the time?" I asked for surely there must me more to the boy's life than missions.

"Up to this point Heero has never been able to truly trust his emotions. They were too wild…untamed, unpredictable. You remember how he was. I've worked hard to control those raging forces. Once the flow was diminished to some extent he was able to focus, like a laser beam. I expect it will be a relief to be able to experience such things without being overwhelmed. I doubt he will even recall what he had lost. He IS a weapon. I'll not waste years of training simply because Barton wants a babysitter for his brat.

"Master Dekim will not be pleased when he finds out." I said stating the obvious suspecting as I did so that young Heero would be equally unhappy were he to know the extent of the compromise.

"I have a feeling there will be much more important things for him to be concerned about once operation meteor gets underway." Doctor Jay said and that strange half-smile ghosted across his lips once more.


	7. the last Makar

In closing

I ask you, was it necessary to forge living weapons? For the protection of the colonies perhaps…but not simply to prove we were able to do so. Judge me if you must. What we have done to you five is inexcusable. I have watched with great interest and am proud of all you have accomplished. You surpassed the best projections of the program and civilization is better for it. I regret our meddling had left you with so many scars, seen and unseen. But it is your strength of character that defines you, and makes you who you are. Even from a distance, I have looked after each one of you. You have not been forgotten.

Let this then be your final mission

Live free my friends and dream of tomorrow.

Lieutenant Naught:

The Last Makar

---------------

_Heero's vision misted over as he read the final section aloud to the others. Then he set the book on the table so that they could read all the sections at their leisure. The time for secrets was passed. This was one thing that they would have to work through together. His voice turned husky as he finished, "Mission accepted." He said_

_And I smiled to my self, closed down the five neural connections on my pad and turned to leave confident that it would be so._

_I suppose I was still lost in my own thoughts, or it may have been that I'd forgotten how successful our boys were in matters of stealth. They had me surrounded before I had taken ten steps from my hiding spot._

"_Certainly you did not think we would let you simply walk away." 0-1 said in that quietly dangerous way of his._

_I nodded slipping my service revolver from the holster at my side and handed it to him grip first. It fit so naturally in his hand…even in my last moments I felt a swell of pride. 0-1 at least could be relied on to give me the swift end I disserved. I took a deep breath and waited for the bullet, it did not come. I supposed I looked puzzled._

"_This record is far from complete." __0-5 frowned sternly. __"Did you not suspect we would have other questions?"__ I sighed in resignation, interrogation before execution; I supposed it was only fair after all we'd done…how we'd used them._

_0-2 leaned over and took the data pad from under my arm. "Is this it?" he asked and I nodded. Surely all they needed to know was contained in there and more besides. A large portion was encrypted of course. But, if half what I had heard about the braided boy's ability was true; he should be able to break the safeguards with little difficulty._

"_I remember you," 0-3 announced; he had been studying me intently. Of all of them, I suppose it was logical that he would. "You lied." He said, though there was no edge to his voice, for once I had difficulty reading his dark green eyes. "You said you were no one important, just a technician."_

_I frowned, what could he mean? I WAS only a technician. "I am Naught…" I began but he cut me off._

"_I said I remember…I remember it was your bullet that shot the real Trowa Barton. It was you who permitted me, Nanashi to fly his place. __Without Barton's heir to hold the reigns of the operation, our Masters gave us the freedom to fight for peace rather than retribution. You altered the course of operation meteor…before it even began." 0-3 explained._

"_Your coordination made it possible the five of us could still function effectively as a unit. If you had not transmitted knowledge from one master to the next, there would have been nothing to…draw us together." 0-1 added thoughtfully. His dark eyes held emotion even if his voice did not. "We would have acted alone…and died alone._

"_The other technicians are all dead." 0-4 said softly, "You said yourself you are the last of the Makar…you are the only parent we have."_

"_The only WHAT?" I exclaimed…I suppose my voice cracked from the sheer astonishment at the little blonde's pronouncement. I would have been what, 8 when they were born…maybe 10?_

"_We're orphans if you recall, even Q-boy here is an orphan now." 0-2 clarified with a twisted smile. _

_0-5 rubbed his chin in thought. "Technically we are still minors. Outside certain circles we encounter many who do not recognize we are capable of managing our own affairs. It causes difficulties at times. We are, as we are, because of your program…It makes sense that we would be your responsibility." _

_0-2 rocked from his heels to his toes grinning, hugging my data pad to his chest. His open face was easy to read. Clearly he thought it would be nice have an adult to care for him...an adult who understood what they had been through and knew when to get involved and when give them space. Finally he asked, "So gonna you take us for ice cream or what?" _

_I recalled what __Professor G had said about the boy's ravenous appetite and smiled realizing this was just the beginning…_

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Authors note:

Actually I hadn't planned on taking the story beyond this point. It was meant as an exercise to see if I understood the characters enough to write in this world. When I wrote this I had only seen episodes 1-14 and 16 on you tube before they were removed and I have seen Endless Watlz. Other "facts" I got from internet resources. I was quite surprised when this story was chosen as a Feature on FanLib. Due to continued interest I decided to continue this storyline Part two was originally entitled "Two Close to home" however it has since been renamed "Makar's Home: II" so it is more easily identified as part of the series. The third in the series has yet to be posted but will be entitled "Makar's Destiny."

I hope you enjoyed my first attempt. A huge thank you goes to Wingzero, Apelilly, Sora the Taske and Dragona 2007 who took the time to review. Your encouragement is MUCH appreciated. Feedback really makes my week!!! More please ;)

My other Gundam Wing Stories include "Victoria's pride" a sketch story about Zechs and Noin during their time in the academy together. With a minor connection to some elements that will appear in "Makar's destiny."

And "All Roads Lead to Rome" is a historically valid AU where the characters we know and love are slaves in ancient Rome: having been posted exactly 31 days this story has received over 6,000 hits (WOW!) thank you everyone for the support!

Yours sincerely, Vigilanti Windwraith,


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